


PARAGON - ΠΑΡΆΓΩΝ

by hmrg



Category: Steven Universe (Cartoon)
Genre: Gen, Origin Story
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-09
Updated: 2017-11-09
Packaged: 2019-01-31 05:01:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,415
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12674937
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hmrg/pseuds/hmrg
Summary: One of preeminent qualities, who acts as a model of excellence.





	PARAGON - ΠΑΡΆΓΩΝ

 

 

****

 

 

**0 (4)** **\- β**

The pit boss rises from her workspace. Outside, the technicians are in a commotion. Half of Beta Company crowds around a wall of rock, a rare straightness amid the sickled sweeps of sandstone. A Peridot timidly holds a sensor to the strata. The trembling of her hand renders its readings erroneous—unusable, just like every failed unit from this crooked site. _“She’s coming,”_ someone yelps. The stone rumbles, cracks under strain, and shatters. Then she is before them, arms raised in triumph and a snarl on her lips. Her skin, studded with flecks of quickly-cooling glass, shimmers as she bursts from her tomb. Technicians scramble away from her landing.

She rises up, broad, brutal, red as a flame and banded like the rock that birthed her. Her pupils shrink in the bright light, black pinpoints in pools of molten gold. Unlike her lesser sisters, she does not shy from her birth. This one has no timidity, no hesitation. She shakes her mane free of dust, squares her shoulders, and sneers down at her audience. A development analyst approaches the pit boss with a hardlight pad. “Commander,” she murmurs, “you must see this.” An emergence report is presented. The pit boss taps the screen, scanning its details: planar exit marks; proper depth; uniform frictional rock melt. The Kindergarteners gape in wonder, speaking in hushed tones, as the analyst continues: “A Jasper. Alpha-grade, dipyramidal, class two. Our best production to date.”

 

“Congratulations, Jasper,” the pit boss says, regarding the new Gem. “You are the _perfect_ specimen.”

 

**0** **(** **4)** **\- β**

The planet rolls around its solitary star. In the lyceum, she learns the physics that drive its orbit. She devours the lectures, charts the cosmos, engraves herself with tactics and Gem history. By her third sunrise, she has bested all other recruits in melee. By her seventh, she has plowed through the combat simulation index. By her fifteenth, she grapples with the captain and lays her flat. Each exertion maps the frontiers of her being. She is well made; the captain says she'll bring their Diamond pride.

 

Her feet thud on the packed earth of her sentry rounds, faltering in their rhythm before a mound of broken rock. She cranes her neck at the hurried scraping above her. A small Gem clambers up the canyon wall in flight—another failed emergence. The sandstone gives beneath her hands and she falls, writhing on her back like an insect.

Jasper knows protocol: report the new Gem. She scans the site for a technician, but they are alone. By the time she turns back, the little one has fled down her hole—a hole too low, too shallow. Jasper squats beside it. “Hey,” she coaxes, “come out… I won't hurt you.” She leans back on her haunches and waits. Timidly, the defect hobbles out. She hasn't formed a leg below the knee, and stumps over on her hands and one foot. “I was made here too,” Jasper says; the new Gem only stares. “Can you speak?” Jasper prompts. “Y-ye-s,” she stutters. “Don't be scared. I've got you.” Jasper offers a hand so the little one can stand upright. “What were you made for?” The little one’s fingers tremble against her palm. “I... d-don't know.” Jasper gives a reassuring squeeze. “Let's go to the site supervisor. She’ll help you find out.”

The pit boss hardly spares a glance before answering: “She will be an engine. It's not much, but we’ll recover at least a portion of production costs.” Jasper resists the urge to swallow the thickness in her throat. She makes a mistake, asking “Commander?” The pit boss fixes her with an impatient frown. “Leave me. Find your superior and show this one her assignment.” Tugging the little one’s hand gently, Jasper does as she is told.

The moment she sees the captain, the defect squeals and tears from Jasper’s grip; she darts into an exit hole. The captain is quick to pursue. “C'mere, scrap,” she grunts; she stoops and drags her out, kicking and squabbling, by her good ankle. Jasper doesn’t know the word for the ache inside her. The captain pins the little one at the nape with practiced ease. “Weakness is a liability to your unit, to your mission, to your Diamond,” she recites—prosaic, practiced. “The weak are unfit to serve. Those who cannot serve their purpose _are_ repurposed.” Jasper is not weak, she decides, and remains silent.

The captain strikes. In one swift movement, the defect vanishes into smoke. The captain straightens, holding an angular stone—pale, low luster, full of inclusions. With a muffled _click_ , it breaks into neat pieces in the vice of her fist. “What is your purpose, Jasper?” She turns to her charge, the threat implicit. _“To serve the order of the Diamonds,”_ Jasper barks, a trained animal.

 

She is the perfect specimen.

 

**0** **(** **4)** **\- παπούα**

The orbital carrier drops their pod, and the squad of eight Quartzes hurdles toward the dense foliage below. Counterthrusters kick in, and Jasper’s teeth punch through her tongue. She sucks down the metallic tang, bracing for impact. The pod hits the earth like a bomb. Before she’s recouped from the blast, the door springs open. Her boots are the first on the ground. “Don’t choke, rookie!” Sarge shouts, thumping the back of her ill-fitting helmet. Jasper jerks her head to return the armor to its place. They’ve shifted only a few degrees of latitude, yet she’s on an alien world. Humid air weighs down her lungs; everything stinks of organics. Her first steps outside Beta are swallowed by mud.

The enemy finds them first. Her axe was made for hands much smaller, but she puts her weight into its swing. She downs a rebel soldier with the first blow. They balk from her attacks after. She surges forward, unrelenting, until the rebels turn and flee. Jasper breaks from the squad to give chase. “Stupid gangue!” Sarge curses, far behind her. “They’ll grind you to _dust!_ ”

She crashes through the thicket, losing a boot to the muck. The foliage closes in and her prey slips from sight. Thunder cracks across her temple. Her helmet topples off. A film of tears clouds her vision. All around her, the jungle is moving. She tightens her grip on her axe.

A dozen rebel soldiers burst from the greenery, weapons drawn. It’s a trap. She should have known—would have known under standard conditions. Each Quartz trains in Kindergarten for five years; she trained two months. But to meet the rebellion's gaining momentum, every Gem was needed.

A growl rips from her throat. She swings her axe and misses. The next strike sends a rebel back to her gem. A whip snares her wrist and stops her from swinging again. An enemy Quartz clubs her to the ground. Two smaller Gems latch to her arms, keeping them pinned. The Quartz stamps on her chest while another wrests her axe from her hand. Jasper thrashes in the mud, but cannot break loose.

The rebel Quartz wraps both hands around the club, arcing it over a shoulder. Jasper feels time slow with its descent. She squeezes her eyes shut. Then a flash lights her blindness. The club lands with a _clang_ —but only jostles when it should have crushed. When she opens her eyes, she is staring through a visor. She’s wearing a helmet. _Her_ helmet—her summoned weapon—deflecting the killing blow. For a moment the enemy is stunned; it’s the second she needs to buck her captors. On her feet, she hammers the Quartz across the chin. It’s a perfect fit: a literal headfirst approach. Jasper could laugh. She drops ten of the rebels before her squad catches up to finish them off.

Sarge whoops. “You ones don’t normally live long enough to do that!” She cuffs the crest of Jasper’s helmet; the light from its polished surface glints in her eyes. “Troops like you, this war’ll be over soon.” Jasper’s grin is full of blood.

 

She is the perfect specimen.

 

**22132** **(** **4)** **\- γη**

She is lieutenant over twenty-one soldiers, most of them fresh from the ground. Theirs is not a gentle debut—the enemy outpost crowns a stretch of badlands that shift and crumble underfoot. Turrets hinder aerospacecraft flyovers, and the sector warp is locked down. Jasper heads the formation through a narrow ravine, the only open route forward.

_Ambush._ Gas washes over them in a sea of thick green light. The earth explodes with shells from hidden artillery.  Smoke and thunder—Jasper knows the tactic.

“Acid armor! NOW!” she bellows. Her troops fit the clumsy shielding over their gems and faces just in time. She counts heads lightning fast—twenty Gems—and hears screaming.

One of her soldiers, gem exposed, pitches toward her. Her eyes are wide white orbs; she clambers at Jasper’s leg like a drowning animal. The surface of her gem is pitted and dull; it comes off in fine grains where she clutches with a blistered hand. Her shrieks turn to gurgling as froth fills her mouth.

The vapor’s permeated her gemstone; it breaks along its fractures, and her form dissolves in a flash. Jasper hasn’t time to collect the shards. Her soldiers’ screams assail her through the fog. The enemy is upon them.

She summons her helmet but craves a shield. All around, her sisters drop and shatter. A hundred years ago, the malformed wretches would have never seen combat; she’d have cut them down herself to spare them this. Every mission is the same. Her soldiers are new. Their first battles are almost always their last.

 

“You made it,” a facilitator remarks with an arched brow. “I always do,” Jasper mutters.

“And your troops?”

“Read the brief.”

They scan the after-action report, not bothering to feign surprise. “Pity. Had they been more like you, they’d have borne the circumstances. Kudos, Jasper.”

Jasper exists for her Diamond’s interests, and Homeworld’s, by proxy; the pit boss tells the new recruits they are the motor that propels Gemkind. When a part fails, it is replaced, and the machine barrels on. She knows all of this—she knows, but the parts have faces. She can’t stop for them, only push forward. Jasper exits the debriefing. Her commander pins a new badge to her hollow chest.

 

She is the perfect specimen.

 

**131122** **(** **4)** **\- γη ◆ διάστημα**

Emergency beacons and klaxons pierce the hazy atmosphere. Outside of drills, she’s never heard the alarm sound in earnest. Tension stiffens her stride as she joins the rest of her battalion in the assembly hall. Six hundred wary Quartzes fall silent to stand at attention when the General enters.

“Pink Diamond has fallen,” she announces. “Assassinated by the traitor Rose Quartz.” An outcry rises from the troops around her. Jasper remains silent; her head fills with a low rushing, like air through a duct. “QUIET!” the General booms. “Our retaliation will be swift and complete. All units are to evacuate to the Galaxy Midway and await redeployment. Any Gem remaining planetside will be annihilated. We are invoking our Contingency Solution. Officers, collect your troops. You have one solar cycle.”

The rushing noise builds, and the world dampens beneath it. Jasper's soldiers gather around her; she numbly takes a headcount. She spots her uncertainty in the mirrors of their faces. Jasper doesn’t like the look. She sets her jaw and leads the way to the offworld transit. Twenty-one new soldiers follow her into the dark.

The colossal carved slab of the Midway lies open to the vacuum of space. Earth's star is a dust mote in the black gulf. The bitter-cold void is unlike anything she's known; Homeworld’s welcome is no warmer.

They scan her gem in the debriefing annex. “You are under the service of Yellow Diamond. Assume your new allegiant uniform after regeneration.” A transfer agent herds her into a sterile chamber with a throng of pink diamond-clad Gems, all as haggard as Jasper feels. “Stand with your forehead to the wall,” the technician orders. The Gems obey without a word.

Static hisses and pops, then lightning spears the base of her skull. Jasper grimaces. Her light retreats, exploding behind her eyelids. The noise in her head ebbs.

 

For a moment, all is quiet. When she opens her eyes, she is in a regeneration ward. She wears a pale yellow diamond now; her lieutenant's badge is gone. Her reassignment is complete.

 

**333332** **(** **4)** **\- οικία**

She is not among Homeworld’s brightest, nor its strongest. Here, she is altogether unremarkable. By and large she is ignored. She earns no praise, no promotions for her restless work upholding the Authority. She is Beta, the best of the worst.

When destabilizers are issued on base, she is the first to the depot to trade in her weapon. An injunction from Yellow Diamond more pragmatic than humane: lethal force is discouraged in the name of resource conservation. She has no love for Yellow Diamond, but Jasper likes the weapon. It suits her. Blunt. Effective. Just.

She takes any mission that sends her off-planet; Homeworld is not her home. No matter where she ventures, the ghosts of her sisters and her Diamond cling like rust to iron.

 

**1222312** **(** **4)** **\- νόστος**

Her birthplace comes into view through the flight deck screen. “Peridot,” she goads, “ETA.” Her escort’s reply is steeped in surliness: “Point three intervals. Like when you asked me ten minutes ago.” No reason for _her_ to bother; this planet means nothing to one so new.

The informant’s intel is good, and they touch down mere paces from the rebel base. A giant in worn stone watches from the cliffside. Jasper knows of the battle with that hideous fusion. She remembers the bitter aftermath, where shards lay strewn like sand. The Temple, regal and ravaged, lifts its broken moss-scabbed limbs. Earth ruins everything, and did not spare the visage of its champion.

The rebels are no more impressive than their base. She should have known better—the Solution destroyed any chance of a genuine brawl. The remnants frustrate her in ways she can’t describe…

Then she sees the shield. _Her_ shield, _Rose’s_ shield. Its emblem seizes her, stripping away the millennia until all is raw as scoured skin. Her hair bristles at the root; every fiber of her being draws like a bowstring; flames lick at the coils of her gut. Jasper is _alive_.

She can make it right. She can redeem this planet's failed investment. She can still serve her Diamond.

 

She is the perfect specimen.

**Author's Note:**

> Q: What's up with the numbers? 
> 
> A: Humans use a base-10 system for numbering. Anthropologists (reasonably) speculate that this system arose from simple finger-counting, and is a straightforward way for humans to measure the world around them. Humankind was born from animal ancestry. But who knows how Gemkind came to be? The Diamonds will say that it started with their great visions for the universe-- and so use base-4 to numerically describe their world. After all, mathematics ought to reflect the order and perfection of the four most perfect beings. Years of Jasper's life are counted using base-4, starting at zero (her emergence) and increasing to around 6800 years (her return). The narrative is from a Gem's point of view, and could stand to be a little different from a human's telling.
> 
>  
> 
> Q: What's going on with the Greek? 
> 
> A: It's classical language and culture. Era 1 Gemkind has been shown to possess artwork and architecture that draw from similar motifs. Plus, the alphabet is cool-lookin'. The headers used describe defining moments and locations in Jasper's history:
> 
> ΠΑΡΆΓΩΝ - Paragon. One of preeminent qualities, who acts as a model of excellence.  
> β - Beta (Kindergarten)  
> παπούα - Papua (in modern day: a province of Indonesia on the island of New Guinea)  
> γη - Earth  
> διάστημα - Outer Space  
> οικία - Home(world)  
> νόστος - Nostos. A literary theme of a hero coming home by ship-- a return marked by greatness. This journey is very extensive; it usually involves being stranded in an unknown location and undergoing trials that test the hero. The return is not just about returning home physically, but also about retaining status and identity upon arrival.
> 
>  
> 
> Q: That's a little pretentious, don't you think?
> 
> A: For sure.


End file.
